


Sepelite Me Dulciter

by Tales_Of_Chrom



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Feelings, M/M, The Future Past Timeline, or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tales_Of_Chrom/pseuds/Tales_Of_Chrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grima never really did have full control of his vessel's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sepelite Me Dulciter

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I just downloaded the DLC and I'm dying on the inside and I got to the part where Chrom is being summoned and Grima goes "What?! That can't be him! I buried him myself!". Note, Grima said bury and not kill. I was just like: Grima.... burying Chrom shit inspire. That happened around 8 30 and now its midnight and im stil dying on the inside.

The skies were clear, the wind’s howls silenced just for the occasion. The dark clouds that drifted across the darkened skies went on endlessly, blotting out the sun no matter how much the rays struggled to pierce their blackness. Most appropriate.

**”Burn them.”**

Funeral pyres.

No.

Fire pits.

If they wished to be the patrons of light then so be it. They could burn in the light they cherished so dearly. First the pink haired woman, then the blond monk, and then the orange haired thief. No need to keep their bodies around.

Each body landed atop the one that came before it, sending burning embers up towards the sky. The smell of them was putrid, just like their hope. The scent would linger for only awhile before being blown away by the presently suppressed wind. To think it would be so easy to just… _erase_ them. A row of sharpened teeth peeked out from behind cruel lips but the toothy grin quickly morphed to a snarl when his eyes locked onto the body the Grimleal had grabbed.

**”Not that one. That’s _mine_. Leave it.”**

Hesitance in their eyes. Confusion.

Grima flexed his fingers and one of them went sailing into the fiery pit, screaming as the life inside her was torn from her forcefully by the hungry flames. The other follower quickly got the message, dropping the body and taking a step back, his head lowered in submission. The fell dragon’s sneer never left his lips but he didn’t give the second one the same fiery fate as the first, instead he stepped forward and knelt down, gathering the lifeless body in his strong but thin arms before standing once more and turning heel.

**”Burn the rest.”**

~

The forest was already dead, trees withered and gnarled, flowers wilted and brown. However, it granted enough privacy for the lone gravedigger.

Hours went by, dirt piling higher and higher beside the grave as the digger toiled wordlessly in the dimness of night. The body laid quietly off to the side, resting atop a bed of poisonous mushrooms not more than a foot away from the deepening grave. The grave digger would occasionally glance back at it before continuing the gruelling task.

It was near morning by the time the grave was six feet deep. The digger struggled to pull himself out but he eventually did, taking a moment to lie beside the body and catch his breath.

_Hm…. the sun would usually rise around this time._

Alas, the sun hadn’t risen for some time. The clouds would never allow it to.

The digger sat up, rotating his shoulders a few times before standing once more to look down at the corpse. Dark brows furrowed, wondering.

Why had he taken the time to dig a grave for a foolish man?

Grima couldn’t even bring himself to sneer down at the deceased man’s body. Instead, he circled around the body and brought his muddy booted foot back to kick the dead man into the grave. The foot did nothing more than stay there, hovering in the air as Grima balanced on one foot. Minutes passed as the fell dragon balanced, though eventually he set his foot back down, falling to his knees in front of the body, crushing the venomous shrooms beneath him.

_Chrom..._

Grima’s hands shook as they settled them on the former exalt’s cold corpse. Just one little shove. One push. One nudge. Why was it so difficult?

The sky had darkened considerably by the time the lifeless body fell into the grave with a soft thud. The fell dragon stood stiffly, murky red eyes narrowing at the small hill of dirt beside the grave for only a second before he started kicking dirt into the grave, covering the man’s corpse with earthy rain.

Before long the grave was filled, now just a small mound in the earth.

The fell dragon turned which way and that, searching for something that would serve as a headstone before catching sight of battered looking boulder the size of a head. With a grunt he picked it up, carrying it a few feet before dropping it right in the center of the grave, denting the mound slightly.

Grima stared absently at the rock, hands dangling at his sides as rain began to drip from the clouds.

For a while Grima stood there in silence, doing nothing more than staring at the rock.

The ring on his hand glinted faintly in what little light there was left. The emblem on it was disgusting but Grima had kept it around. Perhaps he should dispose of it and free himself of the sentimental shackles.

Grima slowly slipped the ring from his hand, gazing at it as it sat in the middle of his palm. The metal it was constructed of had long since tarnished but the damn emblem on it refused. Just like it’s owner.

With a snarl, the ring was hurled at the rock. It didn’t shatter, it ended up bouncing off the stone and flying off into the prickly thorns off to the side of the clearing.

At first, the fell dragon grinned but it was short lived because no sooner had the ring disappeared into the bushes he was rushing after it, nearly diving into the thorns head-first to retrieve it. He was on his knees in the mud, desperately searching for the scrap of metal, but the ring was elusive, having been half buried in said mud. The frantic groping had only concealed it further.

Grima’s hand eventually felt it out and squeezed it tightly as to not lose it on the way out of the bush. He barely even flinched when the action caused thorns to pierce the vessel's flesh.

He all but yanked his arm from the thorn bush, ripping the tactician’s robe and slashing his vessel's delicate flesh further. Grima made to open his fist to glare at the battered and bloody ring but was unable to. Instead, he clutched the ring to his chest, head bowed as the rain continued to pour around him.

**”Damn you…… damn you to hell, Chrom.”**

**Author's Note:**

> Robin will always love Chrom no matter what no way Robun is gonna let Grima get away with that shit.


End file.
